


He Knows

by Ortholeine



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Civilian Tim Drake, Gen, but maybe a little, not quite crack, tim drake centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:08:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24872824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ortholeine/pseuds/Ortholeine
Summary: Timothy Drake is a civilian, a normal boy. Kind of. He's normal in that he keeps secrets and has some hobbies. Those secrets and hobbies, though, are a little unique...and completely, 100% revolve around the crime-fighting family of Gotham.A good friend of the Waynes, Tim finds himself dodging his heroes' attempts to reveal their identities to him in a misguided attempt to keep the status quo. No one seems to want to let it rest, unfortunately for Timothy Drake.*inspired by a post on Tumblr, linked in notes*
Relationships: Tim Drake & Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake & Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Duke Thomas, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Comments: 36
Kudos: 1242





	He Knows

**Author's Note:**

> So the original idea came from here: https://amoretheiwa.tumblr.com/post/620334296892358656/civilian-tim-au-where-he-ends-up-being-close-ish  
> I wrote a ficlet and decided to edit it, and add a little bit. Some of the dialogue and a good chunk of the idea comes from other people's suggestions on said post. It was fun to write though, and if you have any requests/recommendations leave me a comment!
> 
> Tumblr post this is based on: https://amoretheiwa.tumblr.com/post/620334296892358656/civilian-tim-au-where-he-ends-up-being-close-ish

So here’s the thing: Tim knows. He _knows_. He knows what is perhaps one of the most well-kept secrets in the world. He’s known since he was nine, which…well, it’s not too hard to keep a secret if there’s no one to keep a secret from. Hiding in the shadows, taking pictures, developing photographs, that isn’t hard to hide. Mrs. Garcia only ever asked him about his schoolwork and his health, so nothing really to actively hide there, aside from the scraped knee or few-too many bruises. She wasn’t over often anyway, twice a week at the most, until Tim skipped 8th grade right into high school and his parents decided they only needed a housekeeper, not a nanny.

It was fine. Tim was fine. He had other things to worry about, like documenting _the_ Batman and his partners, his kids. Not that anyone else knew that the various Robins and Batgirls were actually kind of Batman’s kids. People said that all the time but they didn’t know or mean it, not like Tim did.

Which is part of why keeping that secret, and not just the secret itself but keeping the fact that he knows about it a secret too, was beginning to be very hard. To say the least. It had been fine when little Timmy Drake was just the kid in the next-door manor (even if next-door really meant a few miles away), and only saw Batman in-person in his day-time person of Bruce Wayne the rare times his parents brought him to galas and charity events. He was a kid who could watch from a distance at the ripe old ages of 10 and 11. But then he hit 13 and his parents started asking him to attend those events in their stead as they were starting to stay away further and for longer.

Now, a few years later, and he’s somehow befriended pretty much all of them. Not just in the wave-hello-across-the-street or chat-at-galas kind of friends, but he as in regularly invited over to Wayne Manor for things as simple as dinner or studying. Despite Damian being a decent number of years younger than him and home-schooled by Alfred, the kid seemed insistent that “Drake” studied with him in the evenings, after school but before dinner. Stephanie and Barbara and Cassandra somehow roped him into joining their trips to the mall and movie nights. Dick, when he was home, would always express interest into Tim’s life, beyond the polite surface level stuff one could normally expect from someone neither friend nor family, though Tim guessed Dick had technically become a friend.

Now, don’t get him wrong, Tim was not upset about the friendships and company. Far from it, even when Bruce and Dick and Alfred all seemed suspicious over silly things like how Tim was alone most of the time he was at home or only saw Mrs. Garcia once a week or talked to his parents maybe once every 20 days or so. (Or the ridiculous idea that Tim wasn’t old enough to take care of himself, he was 15, no 9). But being both emotionally close to them and in close proximity of his heroes made hiding the fact that he knew that they were said heroes…difficult. To say the least.

It all started a year or so ago. He didn’t know what had changed, beyond the fact that he now spent way more time at Wayne Manor than Drake Manor, but suddenly the Bats were trying to out themselves to him. Tim wasn’t dumb, he knew that they must have collectively or individually decided to try and tell him. But…he didn’t want things to change, not really. He enjoyed honing his own stealth skills by following them and photographing them all from above the Batcave itself. He was pretty sure they were above the Batcave, or at least close to it. Regardless, he actually enjoyed night-time photography, and it had been both his escape and his favorite pastime to sneak out and take pictures of his heroes. To know that they were real. Besides, if they tried to tell him and he had to add another layer of lies to their friendships, it made Tim that much more liable to slipping up. And then where would he be?

He didn’t know why they wanted to tell him, and why it was so important to them that they told him, but he sure as hell didn’t want it to be from a misguided sense of obligation to him. What had he done for them? Beyond the occasional distraction in public, or an alibi or a small favor, there was nothing big. Nothing like putting on a suit and fighting right alongside them. None of those small things deserved their full trust. After all, Timothy Drake? He wasn’t special. He was just a kid, a teenager now, who happened to be good with a camera and love Batman and Robin. Well, the first few Robins. He wouldn’t go so far as to say he loved Damian.

Anyway.

It started with Dick because of course it did. Everything important in Tim’s life seemed to start with Dick. Tim was meeting the man in question at his apartment in Bludhaven for something he didn’t even remember anymore. He had knocked like normal, and heard some crashing from inside like normal, but instead of Dick hollering a “Be right there!” and taking time to obviously change out of his crime fighting suit like normal, the man opened the door in full gear. Tim blinked. Dick’s eyes were comically wide, some sort of residue still around them as if he had just taken off his mask. He opened his mouth to speak when Tim beat him to it.

“Wow, Dick! That’s an awesome Halloween costume!”

He could not believe that that was what he had gone with. Halloween? Of all things? He was honestly grateful that the words had burst out and not his heart that was still trying to evacuate the premises.

Dick aborted whatever he was about to say and proceeded to have what looked like an aneurysm or a stroke. Or maybe both. If it had been any other kind of situation Tim would have snorted and maybe even laughed.

“What?” Dick said, jaw loose.

Tim pushed his way in and nudged the door shut from Dick’s fingers.

“I mean, man, I knew you were kinda into fashion but that looks super realistic. What material did you use? Did you make it yourself?”

He didn’t wait for Dick to answer, just turned and sat down on the couch.

“Extreme dedication to the best holiday, I like it. Anyway, what’s the plan? You going to be ready to go soon?”

And that was that. Dick didn’t try to push the point and shortly got changed. Tim was unbelievably grateful because he wasn’t sure he could keep up the façade past that. He could only play dumb and oblivious for so long.

After that incident, though, it just kept coming.

At the next gala he went to, he was enjoying some delicious snack that was labeled as kosher—he really had to find out who was catering and see if they did private home deliveries—when he was suddenly being pulled away. He looked down with a full mouth to see it was Damian who had an iron grip on his elbow. Tim swallowed, quickly, and tried to keep up. If Damian was being this brusque with Tim, something had to be wrong.

“What’s wrong, Damian? Is everything okay?”

The boy just made his signature sound, a “tt” that was most likely his tongue hitting his teeth, and kept leading them away from the gala. Tim wasn’t too surprised that they ended up in a private bathroom, but he was surprised when the youngest Wayne locked the door.

“Uh, are you feeling okay, Damian?”

Damian, after locking the door, had turned and faced Tim. After that question, however, he rolled his eyes and began taking off his suit jacket.

“Whoa, hey, what’s happening?” Tim said, yelped really. He officially had no idea what was going on anymore, in this room or in this universe.

Damian winced as he put his arms back down, one side moving more fluidly than the other.

“I need your assistance, Drake. My stitches are in a place where I cannot resew them myself and these imbeciles have insisted on greetings and dancing in such a manner to more than exacerbate them.”

Tim couldn’t say he was too surprised, at the stitches, not the aggravation of them. He had been watching when Killer Croc took the bite of the younger boy’s shoulder just a few nights before. Or was it a few weeks ago? Anyway, what he was surprised by was the fact that Damian was the next person to try and reveal his identity to Tim. Honestly, he had been expecting Bruce or Alfred would act before Damian to say something. But that didn’t matter because that was definitely blood seeping through the bandage, and boy was it a big bandage. He was suddenly very grateful for those online courses about suturing and first aid he had had to take for himself.

Damian was stiff while he worked, but Tim noticed when the younger boy took a deeper than normal breath.

“You are surely curious as to what caused such an injury. I must tell you—”

“Don’t worry, Dami. I won’t tell Bruce if you won’t.”

Damian stuttered, both at having been cut off and the mention of Bruce.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Yeah, your secret’s safe with me. I won’t tell anyone that you got injured while trying to rescue some alligators from the zoo. I know you love animals and I’m sure it was just an accident.”

Damian was silent for the next few minutes, and by the time he spoke again, Tim was finishing up.

“I…appreciate your sensitivity and silence, Drake. Thank you for the aid.”

Tim nodded and washed his hands as Damian went ahead and left the bathroom.

Duke was nice to hang out with. Was, as in past tense, as in used to be. He didn’t have the same freakish energy levels that Dick and Steph did, and wasn’t always raring to having a mentally taxing conversation like Babs. In fact, if he were asked and maybe tortured for the information, Tim would say that Duke and Cass were his favorites. Except for right now.

The other teen was apparently the next person to try and reveal his identity to Tim.

“Are you sure?”

Tim was grateful for all the lessons his mother had ever given him on concealing ones’ emotions as he rolled his eyes.

“Of course. I’m no Vicki Vale, I would never say you look like the Signal when all we really can see of him is his skin color.”

“But if I dressed up as him, the whole suit and mask, would you think it was Signal?”

Tim knew that if he were a cartoon character, there’d be a giant sweat drop working its way down his forehead right now. Or maybe his head would be slowly inflating, with steam coming out of his ears.

“Maybe? It would depend on how realistic your costume was.”

Tim…was frustrated, to say the least. Life was stressful enough before you factored in his own nighttime activities and his friendship with the Wayne’s. Why did they insist on telling him? Why did they choose to do it at random and unsuspecting times? Like Jason, for instance. The former Robin had moved into a new apartment and Tim was helping him with the last few things, things Jason said he didn’t trust his family with. Which, fair. Jason was carrying a suitcase—which was weird on its own, who carried their suitcase? They had wheels for a reason. But the suitcase in question must have either been as old as it looked or tampered with (probably both, knowing Jason), because the older man dropped it and it was spilling open before it even hit the ground.

Tim stopped as the guns, magazines, and stray bullets rolled across the carpet of the hallway between them. He stared at them and wished his brain was doing something other than screaming. How on this good earth was he going to be able to explain _this_ away? The hallway was silent until the last piece of a gun came to a stop.

Jason had frozen, like Tim, when the suitcase fell open, but it wasn’t taking him as long to recover. Tim mentally was giving him a dirty look but couldn’t risk doing so openly.

“Ah shucks, Timmers, I know what this looks like and—”

Tim took a shaky breath and interrupted the man he knew to be the Red Hood.

“I know what it is.”

Jason stopped short, and just like with Dick before, approximately one hundred emotions crossed his face before he spoke again.

“What—what do you think it is?”

Tim shook his head and finally made eye contact with Jason. He deserved every bit of stress Tim could give him right now, the bastard.

“I know government tech when I see it. I don’t know what you are: FBI? CIA? It doesn’t matter though, because I know that you faked your death for a reason and are able to do lots of good right now.”

Jason’s mouth flapped like a fish, opening and closing with no real sound.

“You don’t need to worry, though, I can keep a secret. No one will ever know about this.”

Jason finally spoke, his words coming out slow and measured.

“Thanks, Tim. I appreciate it.”

Tim nodded sharply and stepped over the guns—Jason may have “dropped” what he was carrying, but Tim still had a couple of heavy duffel bags he was 90% sure had the Red Hood costume in that he wanted to put down ASAP if only so his shoulders could stop hurting.

These kinds of situations had been popping up for months now, off and on. It was almost like once one person had tried the next person had their turn, with no more success. Tim was honestly on the verge of telling them that he knew, just to make it end, but a tiny part of him was admittedly enjoying this. After all, he was basically outsmarting the Bat-family, right? And it meant that they trusted him, too. Right?

But his “enjoyment” promptly came to an end when Barbara and Stephanie teamed up. Barbara was Oracle, a tech goddess, and Tim sadly only worshipped invisibly and from afar. Stephanie was more or less his equivalent of a “once upon a dream” and he knew it was the same for her. So, he had mistakenly trusted them. These two sensible women in his life could most definitely not be scheming like their lower male counterparts. They were waiting for the car the two women had brought to the Gotham movie premier of something not really worth a second viewing, and Tim didn’t think much of it when a couple of men dressed like valets started walking in their direction. He was on his phone, double-checking that his parents wouldn’t be home for another few days. It meant he could afford to go out tonight, assuming he got home soon enough.

Tim finally started to think something was up when it quickly became clear that the valet-like outfits were really just ill-fitting jackets with the right logo, and the various men were now seeming to circle them. If he was being honest in that moment, he wasn’t scared. He was well aware that he was in the company of the first two Batgirls. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t taken his own reliable self-defense courses. However, he was so. damn. tired. of these attempts to reveal their hero identities and how those attempts seemed to be escalating, if not for them then definitely for him.

It Tim was being honest, also, he would admit that he has no real practical combat training for all that he’s watched every single Bat fight for years. And had taken some classes. More like watched a few playlists on YouTube, but that stuff was helpful! The reality hit him square in the chest, despite that, and before he knew it he was on the ground, curled up as tightly as he could, just hoping Steph and Babs would have it taken care of quickly.

Which they did. Kind of. He wasn’t 100% sure when the fighting stopped, because it _sounded_ like it had stopped but neither of the women said anything to him. He almost screamed when someone touched him but the familiar voices trickling through a heavy fog confirmed it was his friends. Though, after tonight, he would have to adjust the Bat-friend rankings drastically.

“Tim, are you okay? Were you hurt? I thought we took care of them fast enough,” Steph rapidly said.

Tim shook his head, not needing to fake the tremors in his hands, or the twitching of his left eye.

“I-I think I’m good. Yeah, I think I just blacked out a little. That was definitely terrifying.”

Barbara had wheeled to his other side, and he jumped a little when she put her hand on his shoulder. He looked up and knew for sure that they had set this up when there wasn’t worry or even fear on her face but remorse and a touch of disappointment. He definitely needed to reorder the Bat-rankings tonight.

“Tim, are you sure you’re alright?”

He nodded, standing up with Stephanie’s help.

“For sure, just now I know I need to take some self-defense courses. You guys seemed to handle them just fine!”

The girls shared a look he pretended not to notice.

“You know, I’ve got this great teacher,” Barbara began. “He’s a bit emotionally constipated but pretty much the best.”

“Nah, it’s fine, I know this guy on 5th and Stuart, great guy.”

“Right. Okay.”

When nothing happened for at least two weeks after that, Tim honestly thought he was in the clear. He knew his school records did nothing to hide his intellect, in fact they show-cased it, but Batman and the rest had to think Tim situationally blind, if not a little oblivious. He was pretty sure that if they ever found out that he knew that they would stop him from taking pictures, not that they even knew about his photographing their movements right now. But he didn’t want to risk that. At all. And so he kept the charade up, pretending the various injuries they had stopped hiding weren’t suspiciously timed. Ignoring slip-ups of code names and not-so-quiet discussions of patrol routes.

He kept that up until Bruce asked to meet with him. The man had only really done that once before, when they had extended the invite to tentatively and temporarily move into Wayne Manor, and potentially get some kind of custody. If Tim had thought that _that_ had been a whirlwind or two, he had no real idea what was in store. He just kind of hoped Bruce wouldn’t be too dramatic about the reveal he was planning.

It was after dinner, kind of late actually, and if he wasn’t still “recovering” from the whole attempted mugging incident then he would have already hit the road for his nightly Bat-watching, when Bruce called him to his study.

Tim knocked on the door frame before speaking.

“Bruce? You said you wanted to see me? Something urgent?”

Bruce looked up from the desk and nodded.

He stood up and Tim was jealous, as he always was, of the Wayne natural height. He knew it was only a matter of time before Damian caught up to and surpassed him in height. And muscle and weight, but that was a different issue, one not fully to blame on genetics.

“Follow me,” was all the man said, and Tim knew this was it. One way or another they were going to know he knew. He was not super confident he could play this off, whatever Batman has planned. Though, that deserved some scrutiny: _Batman_ had decided Tim could know his identity? The identities of his family and friends?

They stood in front of the grandfather clock that Tim knew never told the right time. After a beat where he realized Bruce was watching him, Tim shrugged. Bruce didn’t quite sigh, but he did do something that was probably the Batman equivalent of a sigh. He reached up and turned the hands of the clock to some specific time and with barely any sound the clock door swung open. Tim couldn’t really hide his giddiness—he was finally seeing the Batcave, _the Batcave_ —and suddenly hiding the fact that he knew about it all already wasn’t as important as getting to be inside.

He followed Bruce down a long set of stairs. He wondered how long it took and how expensive it was to get some sort of temperature controlling device in there, as it wasn’t as cold or humid as it should have been. When they reached a point where the entirety of the Batcave was visible, Tim couldn’t help his jaw dropping. He had known it existed, he had made educated assumptions about what was in it and where exactly it sat, but nothing had come even close to the reality: ignoring the fact that every single Bat-affiliated crime fighter was standing near the Batcomputer, costumes on but masks off, watching him. Even Kate Kane and Harper Row were there. Bruce didn’t pause and so Tim tried not to either. He really hoped they’d let him at least look if not touch everything.

Bruce came to a stop in front of his family and turned to look at Tim. Everyone’s eyes were on him, which on a good day would make him uncomfortable. But so many emotions were swimming just below the surface and he didn’t know how to handle this.

“I’ve thought long and hard about this, Tim, and together we decided you should finally know. I’m Batman.”

Tim felt his heart freeze. Something small, miniscule really, had changed in Bruce’s voice when he said those iconic words. But Tim filed that away for another night and opened his mouth. What came out was not what he had planned. Not that he had anything planned, really, but still.

“What?! Oh golly gee, that’s just, wow…that is just super. I had no idea. I am shocked look at how shocked I am.”

Tim could have shot himself in the foot in that moment. Maybe the knee too. The faces before him changed from the heroic, stoic, and hopeful to incredulous and disbelieving. It was Jason and Damian who broke the silence first.

“You f-ing knew? This whole time? You f-ing KNEW?”

“What is the meaning of this Drake! Are you saying you were aware of our identities?”

“It must have been my plan, it gave it away!”

“No way, he probably knew since my shenanigan.”

Bruce put a hand up, silencing them all with the single motion, and turned to face Tim fully. Tim could readily admit it was an intimidating face that now looked at him. It had been just as much Batman as Bruce Wayne in that moment. He slid his hand into his pockets and rocked slowly forward onto the balls of his feet.

“You…knew?”

Tim shrugged, sheepish, heart racing faster than probably the Batmobile could go.

“Kind of? Since I was, well, 9?”

“Well no duh you knew, we were being so obvio—wait, since you were 9?!”

It took about 5 minutes before the shouting died down but when it did Dick had his arms tightly wound around Tim and they had all migrated to what could only be the training mats. Dick put Tim down on top of a piece of what must have been gymnastics equipment for the acrobat himself, and suddenly Tim found himself surrounded by some of the most feared and respected heroes in the known mutli-verse, feeling like the kid who had scraped his knee and needed the whole family’s help putting a band-aid on.

“Wanna explain how you knew our secret identities, Timbo?” Jason drawled, arms crossed and leaning against the base of another piece of equipment.

Tim shrugged, no less embarrassed than he had been. He really hoped this didn’t stop him from getting to explore later.

“I mean, it was kind of easy. My parents had taken me to the circus when I was about four, and I got a hug and a picture from this kid whose family were kind of the stars. But that night they were all murdered, except for the boy.” He shyly glanced at Dick, and saw the shock and slowly dawning recognition.

Bruce leaned forward, eyebrows low on his face.

“What did that have to do with your figuring this out at 9 years old?”

Tim shrugged again.

“Well, when I was 9, I saw Robin doing a quadruple somersault, and I remembered that it was that same boy from the circus who was the only person in the world who could do it. Who was also taken in by a wealthy man with every reason to be passionate about justice. It wasn’t that far of a leap, especially when keeping up on every new person in both Wayne Manor and the Bat-family.”

That answer seemed to satisfy them all, until Dick spoke, his voice cracking a little.

“What do you mean you saw Robin, me, do a quadruple sault?”

Tim blanched and knew what he had been dreading was coming.

“Well, the thing is, I’ve kind of following Batman and Robin with my camera? Since I was a kid? I’ve taken thousands of pictures, of all of you, fighting and protecting the city; it’s how I knew there was a new Robin basically the same week Jason started and when Damian showed up.”

There was silence, a frozen and heavy silence, before everyone erupted again.

“You _WHAT_?!”

Some time after they had all stopped freaking out, though Tim thought that Bruce would never really calm down about his picture taking—he kept safe, alright? —it was just him and Alfred, sitting at the computer. The very big, very nice computer that he wasn’t allowed to touch. Yet. maybe. The butler took a sip from his tea, eyes trailing the security footage tracking various members of the family.

Tim was surprised when the man spoke, not really sure what he expected.

“It was finally time they realized you knew, Master Timothy. I dare say they’ll stop badgering as much now.”

Tim paused, thinking, before replying. He didn’t know why he was surprised that Alfred already knew he knew.

“Maybe about this, but you know they’re all just big mother hens. I’m probably never going to take another picture until I’m 50.”

Alfred hummed, putting his teacup back on the saucer. He leaned forward, hand free now, to push a few buttons.

“I daresay you are correct. But, then again, perhaps now there will be more time allotted for family bonding and less time excluding you simply for the sake of plotting a dramatic reveal. These last few months of guessing and planning have left little time for everyone to just be together.”

Tim ignored the sudden burning heat around his eyes. He just nodded and sipped from his own teacup.

“I think you’re right too, Alfred.”

The butler smiled at Tim, and together they watched Batman and all of his family fight to protect Gotham. Tim didn’t stop the niggling idea though, an image of dark pants and a navy top and wings.


End file.
